


Orphanage

by orphan_account



Series: Shelter [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: FrUK, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Human Experimentation, Hybrids, M/M, Rochu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 15:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hybrid and Morthling experiments had been going on for years now. The labs were destroyed where they'd been kept in chambers. An elderly man had freed them all. When the news broke out, every civil service was looking for them. Millions were investigated. That same man kept them safe. To live, they now run errands for the underground system of England. They were all orphans in a way.He was the only human you could trust. How will they survive in this reality?And are their souls strong enough to make a contract with a demon?In orphanage they all play a part in every type of job from hacker, thief and killer. Whatever needs to be done. Everyone played a part in keeping the base secret. The highest ranks usually had the strongest souls, their weapons had demons contracted into them. Others had ordinary weapons. Choosing their weapon is part of a test, one Soups, the Children, haven't done.





	1. Pint of Beer

**Author's Note:**

> 4066 Words for this Chapter! This is an APH/HWS Fanfiction rated M. Morthlings have the ability to change between their animal and human form, while hybrids have animal features such as paws, tail, ears or other. People have code-names due to the orphanage rules. If you're unsure, just ask.
> 
> People in this story in Orphanage/ With nicknames:  
Grandpa | Romeo Gilbavares - APH Ancient Rome  
Old man | Aldrich Beilschmidt - APH Germania  
Albion | Arthur Kirkland - APH England  
Sunflower | Ivan Braginski - APH Russia  
Briar | Natalya Arlovskaya - APH Belarus  
Silver Bullet | Vash Zwingli - APH Switzerland  
Crossroads | Elizabeta Héderváry - APH Hungary  
Heldig | Matthias Køhler - APH Denmark  
049 | Lukas Bakke - APH Norway  
Starlight | Lili Zwingli - APH Liechtenstein  
Lantern | Yao Wang - APH China  
Kāihuā | Mei Xiao - APH Taiwan  
Kololo | Yves Njoya - APH Cameroon  
Vigilant | Eduard von Bock - APH Estonia  
Trigger | Alfred Jones - APH America  
Gust | Matthew Williams - APH Canada  
Cotton | Feliciano Vargas - APH North Italy

**ARTHUR/ALBION**

Arthur was sitting in one of the newer sofas in the older living room, the floor scuffed and the wood looking like it would start rotting at any second. He had his hands around the silver thermos - his best friend over the years. He took a sip of the tea, letting the warmth burn his throat with content. Beside him on the couch, two boys were leaning against him, curled up and sleeping under a new polyester blanket. He sighed lightly - Trigger had picked out the superhero print. He was glad he was warm, they couldn't afford a fleece one for them. Trigger was more energetic of the two boys that he looked after. He had a cowlick on his golden blonde hair. He was lucky to be a morthling in Arthur's opinion, at least he looked human most of the time. Of course, he thought dryly, it would be best for all of them if they didn't have a baby bison roaming around London. Gust was much quieter and had paler skin, his hair also lighter. It had a strange curl that he didn't question. Subconsciously, he ruffled his hair, letting out a possessive growl as he pulled the two boys closer. They were only 9 and been in his care for a year.

Arthur - no, he was called Albion here - knew all too well he shouldn't become attached. There was so much risk by merely existing, their line of work was forced to be dangerous. He could die any day. He hated the thought, but these two, who he considered little brothers, could die.

It was unfair, but then he'd always told the boys life wasn't fair.

It was a shock when Albion looked up to see Sunflower, a broad-shouldered Russian who always refused to take off his scarf, his name entirely unfitting to his character in Albion's dearest opinion.  
"We need to go and see the Boss', comrade"  
Albion frowned, "And who will look after my boys?" he shot back. He and Sunflower were both Guardians, essentially second-in-command under the two bosses.  
"They will send someone, da? Come along, we don't want to upset them"  
"They know, Sunflower," Albion hissed, "They'll panic if I'm not here when they awake"  
"They are asleep. And Kāihuā is here now."

Albion sighed as she looked at the Asian girl, who waved back with a smile. She had pink flowers adorning her brunette hair and the boys were fond of her. Albion sighed, but gave in to the demands and gifted both the sleeping children a kiss on their heads, Gust's grip tightening subconsciously on his cuddly toy polar bear at the loss of warmth.

He and Sunflower walked in silence. The whole place was in silence. Venice had died two nights ago and no one had left the Orphanage since. Crossroads and Cotton had been mourning the loss of their brother and there wasn't a single one of them not terrified that they were going to meet the same fate as the Soup. He'd been killed at 5pm while visiting a park. The beetle had come and shot him. The other two had been lucky to get away and manage to not leave a trail.  
Soups were in the most danger; they were merely children who hadn't learnt how the Orphanage worked. They forgot the precautions sometimes. And a small mistake had left one of the Italian twins brotherless. Their older Orphanage sister, who had adopted them much like Albion had adopted Trigger and Gust, was heartbroken and no one had been able to console her that it wasn't her fault.

It wasn't the first time someone had died, but it didn't help numb the pain. Their members had been slowly depleted over the years. The Beetles wouldn't stop until every single one of the experiments were dead and this was another grim reminder. All of them wanted a normal life.

Albion found himself standing in the dusty office. He stared into the amber eyes of Grandpa. He looked tired, his eyes red and puffy like he had been crying. His brown curly locks were messier than usual. This death had hit him hard; he had always cared about every single one of them. He was risking his life merely by sheltering them, feeding them. And that's why they were all too happy to take jobs. They understood there was no other way, but Grandpa had always refused jobs that were too dangerous. He always bought them medicine and treats. He never harmed them.

The Old man was similar in how he treated them, except he was willing to scold someone who messed up. No one knew what was worse - Grandpa being scared and disappointed or the Old Man being angry. His long blonde hair had its usual braid and was recently brushed. His blue eyes were ice cold. He spoke first, "Sunflower, Albion, thank you for coming on such short notice. The tragedy that has fallen on us has left everyone in a lot of danger. We can't move the orphanage either. In the meantime I want only Guardians and Priests doing jobs. You have more training and are more likely to survive the MI6s attacks. We're working on avoiding inspection and keeping this place hidden, but with all the investigations it is hard."

It was funny how the Old man refused to use their nickname 'Beetles' for the cops but would use their personal Orphanage ones. Albion kept his chin up and nodded, "Yes, Sir. I have a job that is quick money and easily open, if that's okay"

"Albion, you're all like grandchildren to me. Don't take a prostitution job, it's dangerous," he'd been scared of those words from Grandpa, but he managed to give a small smile, "It's not that, Grandpa."  
He couldn't explain why he called the Old Man Sir, maybe it's because he wanted some sort of professionalism, but always used Grandpas nickname. The two were married, for Christs sake! It wasn't like he was scared.

Albion waited for a hand-wave that he was dismissed and gave a small wave back. He didn't wait to hear what Sunflower was going to take, there was little point. All he needed was to earn enough that night to support the whole place for at least two days.

He headed down the corridor, there was red carpet, although the colour was fading it still looked brand new in most of their eyes. He pulled on his coat, it was thin, in the wintertime he'd be freezing, but there was still enough warmth in the early Autumn months. If they were normal, the boys would be just home from school. He pulled the hood over his head, using the long rain coat to hide his small bunny tail and tuck in his large lop ears. He looked like a normal human hiding from the rain most of the time.

He didn't hurry down the street but breathed in the scents of autumn - the rotting leaves in all their colours. The crimson, the mangy yellow, the vivid lime. He was sensitive to noise and could hear the hedgehog snuffling around the base of a tree, the bark partially stripped. People were meandering around him, chatting in their own world. He let his guard slip, just walking down the streets with the dusky light illuminating everything. The sun was starting to collapse behind some builders and the streetlights, painted black, were starting to flicker on one at a time. He paid attention to detail, it was a habit he'd picked up over the years.

He turned down alleyways, upset when he could only smell garbage for the time being. He passed several smokers, wrinkling his nose up at the putrid smell. He'd never taking up drug substances, although he'd have a cigarette when extremely stressed. He finally reached the place and headed in. There were two guys sat on benches on one side of the small room. They looked over immediately, one drawing a gun. Albion put up his hands in mock surrender, "I came in the back door 'cuz I need a job for the night, love. Where's Sadik? I'm popular enough whore to get someone for the night"

The small Japanese man put away his gun brushing the black bangs out of his face, "Well, he's up front Mister. I can set you up with clients tonight?" his arm was protectively over the much more muscular man known as Hercules. Albion wasn't sure if that was his real name or not. He shook his head, "Blackmail agreement. He knows what clients use me. Tell Rabbits in room 3. Nice to see you doing so well, Herc."

He meant it for once. The guy had no open wounds or visible scars he hadn't seen before. He marvelled at the fact that his old friend had lucked out not to get any rough clients. It was still early, so most of the prostitutes didn't arrive until much later. Hercules took the early shifts. Albion just appeared when he could get away with it - he didn't want Grandpa worrying. Room 3 had a stripper pole - he didn't know how to use it, luckily enough - and under the bed was a box of toys. He sat down, removing his coat and throwing it to the side on top of a spare box. Nothing was in that one. His hands were shaking as he undid the buttons on his shirt, opening it up. He didn't want it to be broken, just encase. He then slid his trousers off past his ankles, along with shoes. He was shivering. The room was freezing. The metal bed frame pressed up against the bare skin of his legs. He'd kept his socks on because the stone floor was too unbearable to stand on without the layer. He finally slipped on a mask. It was black with lace and fake black diamonds. He'd made it himself. His green eyes practically shimmered behind it.

Albion waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on his leg. He couldn't hold back a smirk as a man entered. He was muscular, much taller than him and had tattoos adorning his skin.  
"What's a slut like you staring at?" he barked, gripping Albion's cheeks and putting pressure on the cupped face, nails digging in. He let out a hiss of resentment and pain, refusing to avert his eyes until he was thrown backwards onto the bed and the mattress, landing in an undignified heap. He knew the drill and got onto his knees, resting most of his weight on his elbows as he lifted his ass into the air, putting it on display. He could hear the zipper undo.

He let out a cry of excruciating pain as he didn't hear the shuffle to reach for the lubricant or preparation devices, but rather felt the dry penetration. The sensation he was burning and he desperately tightened, wanting to be rid of the foreign object. He tried to bury his head into his arms as his eyes pricked with wet, hot tears only to find it yanked back by his fluffy ears. It wasn't the first time his body had been used like this, but he hadn't had time to prepare himself. He could feel the revolting sensation of his sensitive bundle of nerves being struck. It was sickening how that dared to come close to the pain he was feeling. His head was bent back at an angle, causing his throat to feel welled up. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and let his body tremble. He no longer cared about the cold, he was trembling out of pure agony.  
He felt his trembling legs give in and his body slump onto the mattress, head echoing the groan of ecstasy he'd heard behind him as someone's high was reached. He was lying on his side, chest heaving as he watched the man zip up his pants, the blurry figure exiting as he closed his eyes again. His body was trembling and he wished it would stop. His whole body hurt, one part especially sore. He reached his fingers down to his hind, touching the liquid. He brought it up to his face, the mixture of red and white disgusting him.

He stayed there, unaware of time passing. Everything was spinning, his world was dizzy. He managed to control his breathing eventually and forced himself to sit up, reaching for a towel and wiping off his lithe legs, trying to ignore their shaking. He'd be killed if a mess was left on the mattress, even though the stench of ejaculation was overwhelming. He grimaced at how unlucky he'd gotten. He knew the guy, apparently one of the 'rabbits' was his favourite playtoy and paid extra to torture him. He pulled his clothes back on and pocketed the £300 he'd been left on the drawer. That'd be enough for them all. He'd take what he could get.

The backroom was empty when he left, and he did so silently. He was going out to a pub, The Shakespeare to be exact, near the outskirts of Greater London. He slipped into the crowded and loud building, the smell of alcohol prominent. He didn't remove his hood as he ordered a pint, handing out his silver flask. The bartenders knew him by now and would fill his thermos up to the trim, in exchange he would give them £3.50 and it equated to about that much. He didn't care about the quality. He just wanted to forget for a bit. He couldn't stay in the pub and keep his hood up anyway, it was too dangerous, too much risk someone would recognize him, or that it'd be pulled down and his hybrid features revealed. He didn't feel safe in such areas, he preferred a quiet environment.

He almost jumped at the chorus of cheers as he left the pub, but was relieved to see that it was because Chelsea had scored a goal on widescreen TV. He was interested in football, but now was not the time. Too open. No matter how well you knew the Owners, it was never good to linger.

He found himself out of the streets, again, thermos of beer in one hand, the other stuffed in his pocket, fiddling with a knife. His shoulders were hunched and eyes downwards. He avoided eye contact, it would only draw attention and a challenger. He'd left his pack of cigarettes at home and didn't have his fake ID on him. He was too underweight for people to believe his age. It wasn't that he didn't eat, he just didn't put on weight, or was feeling too stressed to eat.

He stopped at his usual place, a bridge overlooking the river. He rested his arms on the railings, letting himself relax as he put his weight on it. He started down at the water. He was alone, apart from the occasional car zooming past, ignoring him. He was safer here, where it was quiet and he could hear the wildlife around him. He let his brain buzz as he took sips at the alcohol, wanting to savour it. It was a similar burning, but it felt good rather than leaving a rough sourness. After a bit, he couldn't contain his want and need, downing the liquid and letting it rest after his gulps, putting the flask down.

He sighed, this was better than back there. He watched the water shimmer, reflecting the darkened skies and the lights surrounding them. It never got dark in the city, but it'd get more like urban night-time later on in the evening. He could let his sorrows flow freely, unable to see the rippling the water made as the salty pearls hit the surface. He could blame the beer for his broken state of mind, letting the suffering wash off of him, almost as if he could purge himself of his sins. Although, the sin he was being hunted for, was because of what he was. An experiment gone horribly wrong and accidentally released into the world, now needing to be removed because these unknowns could be deadly to society. He was just like them, the humans. That's why the Old man and Grandpa took them in: to save them, rescue them from the streets. They'd been taken to the labs as children, so they really didn't know much and had to be educated in morals. He'd gotten better now and was one of the ones running the show. He'd had a brother who was taken with him. He wondered what had happened to him and the family they'd left behind. Perhaps they were happy.

"'Ello, mon ami. What's a pretty face like you doing out here? I wouldn't stand around, this place is dangerous and with the silly English weather, it could start raining any time. Oh - are you crying, mon petit chou, what happened," when Albion had first heard the voice, he'd presumed it was addressing someone else, so it took all his willpower to not screech as he was pulled into the chest of some man. He started panicking, hyperventilating as he felt the warm arms around him, almost in a motherly sense. He hadn't even seen what the guy looked like, but his strong scent of cologne was overwhelming. It smelt sweet like roses, but also strangely manly. He couldn't describe it, "désolé, I must have scared you. I am Francis, what's your name?"  
"Uhm.. Arthur," he whispered, scolding himself. Never share your real name. He could change his surname if necessary, that was what he usually did.  
"Arthur that's a pretty name. Why are you crying? It'd be a shame if you jumped."  
"I'm not bloody going to jump, you French frog. I'm just tired and have had a rough day. We all have."  
"Okay, okay, rosbif. You can talk to me if you need to"

The breath caught in his throat, "I-I just.. I don't get a choice now a days. I have two brothers to look after and anything that brings in the money. We aren't lucky.. Our families sins are still on our shoulders. We're being followed constantly.. We've been hunted since we were born. And I'm scared either me or them will be next. How are they going to live without me? What if they end up like me? And there's nothing I can do. We lost someone who was in the same situation.. He was only a little boy. He had so much to live for. And no questions asked, he was shot."  
"We can protect you, mon ami"  
  
Albion barked with laughter. He was in hysterics, so helpless. Wiping his nose on the strangers shirt, crying, a right mess as he vented his frustrations, "And sheep fly. Not even the Beetles can protect me"  
"..It's strange. I've been called that before," the French man mused.  
  
Albion stiffened up in his grips. Fuck. He was in the arms of a Beetle, wasn't he? He was thoroughly screwed. Maybe it was one of the minor ones who wasn't after him. Another Francis, not Bonnefoy, "Y-Yeah?"  
"I don't know what it means, but I prefer 'frog'. Zere is nothing wrong with being from the country of amour!"  
"You're bloody well squishing me"  
"Désolé, désolé"  
  
Albion took the loosened grip as a sign to step back. His breathing hitched as he looked at the man. Francis Bonnefoy. He had perfectly smooth sun-kissed skin, his blonde hair flowing and luscious, landing on his shoulders. A few stray strands were over his eyes, but he moved it back behind his ear in an elegant movement. He was more gorgeous than the pictures suggested. He supposed it was a good final thing to die to. He then noticed he was offering him his business card. With quivering fingers, he took the piece of card and pocketed it, "Uh, thank you, love," he was stuck on what else to say, "And.. Beetles means a copper," he had to resist adding 'murderer'

"Merci. Beetle.. I will 'ave to use zat. Your English slang is strange."  
"Oi, better than anything French"  
"Oui, oui, whatever the silly man says"  
"I have to go.. Job to do.."  
"Well, you 'ave my number, give me a call, mon ami"

Albions heart was racing. He walked past the man, but time seemed slowed to him. He had to act confident, chin up, but inside he was dying. He was terrified. This was his death. He was just waiting for a bullet to pierce into his flesh. His breathing was ragged, but the tears had stopped. His whole body felt like it was ablaze as he waited. Nothing. He blamed the beer for it all. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he rounded the corner and didn't feel a bullet between his shoulder blades. He checked himself for any obvious tracking devices and felt none. Did he really get away scot-free? It was ridiculous and uplifting that he was that lucky. He fiddled with the card. In another world, he'd love to take up dating, romantic evenings, but it was impossible. This guy was trying to kill him, literally. But if he never found out Arthurs species, it'd be okay, right?

He'd been thinking about the beautiful French voice the whole way to the orphanage as he opened the door, looking around as he turned the key. He locked the door afterwards and put his shoes in the closet, hanging up his coat. He immediately put on a smile as he crouched down, the two blond American children flinging themselves into his arms, "Big brother! We were scared"  
"But you were strong and brave to protect Miss Kāihuā, weren't you?" he ruffled Triggers hair and he smiled at the lady behind them, "Thank you" he offered her a grin.  
"Mhm! We played Superheroes and Heldig made us some pancakes! He even let Gust have syrup"  
"Good. Now is it time for bed?"  
"No! You gotta come and see the new move Silver Bullet taught me"

Albion rolled his eyes at the giggling Kāihuā as he was dragged along, leaning over to be dragged by the hand. He'd picked up Gust up to rest him on his hip. The two were getting heavy as they grew, it was endearing in a way. He knew Trigger was taking lead to the bedroom and proudly opening the door handle, now he could finally reach it. He placed Gust down on the bed, the two insisted on sharing as Trigger jumped up, bouncing happily onto the blanket. He let out a yawn, giving up his energy to be tucked in. Albion affectionately moving the hair out of Gusts face to kiss his nose, before kissing Triggers forehead, "No story tonight," he informed them, trying to ignore Triggers pout. He was glad the two had already been in bed clothes when he found them, he wandered down to one of the shower rooms and locked it, practically collapsing as he stripped himself, going into the warmth, trying to clean off his skin and relieve some of the soreness left behind by the harsh treatment. He felt the stickiness leave his body and grimace. If he was lucky, it would heal after a few days. If not, well he'd have to go to a doctor, which could screw everyone over. He rinsed off his hair as he stepped out, wrapping himself in a towel and grabbing his clothes. He walked back to his room, placing the clothes in laundry as he changed himself into something more suitable to sleeping.

The room he stayed in with his two younger adoptive brothers was reasonably sizeable and he'd given it new sky blue paint only a few months back. They had a wardrobe and a dressing table, even some pictures. The polar bear toy, Kuma, was in his own miniature bed that Gust had crafted. They weren't running in money, but they got an allowance and made good use of it. They lived pretty well, considering. Trigger was growing up to be a big and strong boy, and so was Gust actually. They got three fully-cooked meals a day. The only thing missing was freedom. One day he'd give it to them.

He laid back on the bed and put an arm over his eyes, closing them, his mask on the table beside him. The mattress was much more comfortable. It only took a few minutes for him to fall into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

**IVAN/SUNFLOWER**

Ivan hummed happily as he left the room with Grandpa and the Old Man. He didn’t treat them respectfully, but the Italian and German, respectfully, interested him in their old age. There was so much to know about them, yet they were too secretive and no one was allowed to ask questions. More importantly, they weren’t allowed to research them. Who could blame him for being so curious?

He was heading to the living room and saw his dear Yao lying on the floor, sunning his gorgeous russet body. He headed over to the tiger and donned a kiss on his ear, seeing the hazelnut eyes blink open and the tiger yawn, showing the white fangs. The sun was warm here, Ivan knew from experience. It was probably why the small Chinese man adored spending time in his animal form on the rare sunny mornings. He let out an affectionate purr and Ivan felt the rough tongue against his cheek, “Lantern” he greeted back in his usual cheerful tone, “You look so beautiful, all silky today”

He knew Lanterns name was Yao, the two had exchanged names years ago, ignoring the rule not to share your name. They’d decided the other was safe after years of protecting the other and treating each other in bed. He couldn’t help but blush at the thought of how dominating Yao could be, how his hair got sticky with sweat and how he bit his lip to try and hold back those desperate noises, yet he was gentle until asked. He wondered where that strength came from, but looking at the muscles ripping under the tigers pelt he understood a lot better. He kept on stroking the striped fur, occasionally drawing circles with his fingers as Lantern laid his head down again, closing his eyes with a grunt. Ivan sat down on the floor, leaning against the tiger. He wasn’t the only one, of course. Kololo was nearby, also sunbathing, his lion ears turned towards them to focus in. He was a hybrid, meaning he was only half and half and couldn’t turn freely between two forms, similar to himself. The two were communicating by tail, he could hear the thumping of Yao’s. On the other side of the tigers body, the little Italian boy was curled up against Yao’s stomach, obviously asleep with his head resting on the tiger. His eyes were red and Ivan assumed Yao had been comforting him. He’d been speaking only this morning to Albion, who had left immediately afterwards, and the Old Man on the death of Cotton’s brother.

Ivan frowned on the inside, but refused to let his smile waver, “You are enjoying your time with your friends, da? It is dangerous outside, I don’t want you going without me, but there will be no guardians to protect everyone if I go. We have a day job, Lan-Lan, will you be ready to go when the sun passes the window?”

Ivan watched the tiger raise his head and blink at him before feeling the soft tail, faded white at the end, wrap around his waist. The head save an affirmative nod before grunting, twisting to look at the resting boy.  
“I carry him to bed. No big deal, da? Crossroads will be glad he got some sleep.”  
Yao’s tail flicked with uncertainty and after a bit, he nodded in the end. Ivan grinned and slipped his hands under Cotton, lifting the boy and feeling him snuggle up to his chest. Yao had always been good with children, no wonder he managed to make him feel. Ivan felt a fluttering in his chest: what if they had children in the future? A little girl and boy of their own - oh that would be spectacular. 

He took the boy to his bedroom, hearing Lantern say goodbye to Kololo. He felt a pang of sadness as he saw the two beds, placing Cotton down in one. The boy was trying to cling to him. Ivan forced himself to smile as he felt a kiss on his cheek.

He turned to see the shorter male, hair tied back and in casual clothes, a shirt and jeans. He was wearing a scarf gifted by Ivan for their first Christmas together. He looked stunning and his eyes seemed to glow. They were a hazelnut colour, but Ivan swore the edges had shades of russet and just before the pupil were golden flecks. He felt the skinny arms wrap around him, bringing him into a hug. His Yao murmured tiredly, “Ivan.. What job is it?”  
It was quiet, but his head leapt his joy at that singular word, “Nothing big. We go to big building and put a bug in it”  
“And they couldn’t have sent Vigilant?”  
“Nyet, they want partners who are close and work well together”  
“Oh, so Starlight and 049?”  
“Da, but they are busy so we must go instead. We have the day off afterwards.”  
“And you better be taking me out,” Yao’s finger pressed against Ivan’s chest accusingly, but all he got in exchange was a smile and the taller man wrapping his scarf across his mouth as an act of silence. Their fingers slipped together, interlocking perfectly as Yao took the lead out of the bedroom.

Ivan watched Yao carefully, his lover had led him down the dreary stairs into the training and supply room. Silver Bullet and Starlight were there, the former wearing protective lenses over his eyes and pointing his gun swiftly around at them. Ivan put his hands up while Yao merely glared and stormed on past from the training room to where the supplies were kept, “Sunflower, you have your mask?” he asked, jostling the door open and pressing around with Ivan’s hair to make it easier to put a wig over it. It’d be tailored by Starlight herself to look identical to his normal hair so it didn’t seem too strange to them both, just hide his bear ears. They were cute and endearing, matching his plump childish face, yet fitting for his broad shoulders. Yao moved the net over his hair and then grabbed some makeup to help blend it. He was used to doing it for Ivan by that point. The two exchanged a quick peck for their efforts and then Yao turned back to find various things, “Aiya.. did they mention what floor?”  
“Third, Lan-Lan. There’s scaffolding”  
Ivan caught the hardhat and hi-vis jacket thrown at him, donning them both before stealing Yao’s and holding it above his head, giggling as Yao attempted to jump and reach them, “Give them back! Sunflower!” he scolded, annoyance evident. Eventually he managed to reach them. In exchange for some eyelash battering.

The two were on a bus within five minutes, Ivans arm around Yao’s shoulder and the latter staring out of the window, chin in hand. He was quite obviously contemplating something as he watched the people on the streets and those passing. They were in silence even as they got off the crowded bus, “You know where you’re going?” Ivan looked down at Yao, “Da” he confirmed, slipping his fingers and squeezing reassuringly as they went against the stream of people commuting. Ivan led them down a quieter street and finally came to rest in front of a glass-windowed building, several workers tapping furiously away in computers. “Aiyah..” Yao sighed, “What could they have against such a place?” Ivan chuckled, “Not our place to ask questions. The more we know the more danger we are in, Yao-Yao” Ivan ignored the hiss of, “Ivan! We’re in public!” returned to him. He grabbed the first rung of scaffolding and hauled himself up with ease. Yao was staring up at him, eyes narrowed before swiftly joining him on the wooden boards. Yao glanced up at the third floor where there was a potted plant. He snapped his fingers to grab Ivan’s eye contact and pointed. He nodded quickly and started the climb up. He ducked his head at someone in a suit passing, taking out a chisel and hammer, delicately tapping the glass and making an incision. Once he could he slipped his hand through and placed the bug against the plot. He grinned back down at Yao who was smiling up at him and jumped the scaffold, neatly landing on the ground. He spread his arms wide for Yao to fall the height into them, spinning him around.  
“Ya lyublyu tebya”

* * *

**NATALYA/BRIAR  
**

Briar was pacing outside of her and 049’s room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Beside her was Trigger who had taken an interest in her daggers and was playing with one, tracing the intricate carvings with her fingers. She was impatient and hated waiting although her passive eyes describes other wise. On the other side of the door she was feigning ignorance on what was happening as she wasn’t supposed to know, but had discovered the medication on her partners bedside table. It’d gone missing after he’d gone to see Silver Bullet. She had been preparing and cleaning her blades when she was rudely kicked out of her room, but that was five minutes ago. Her demon contact was whispering in her ear to let her take the boy; possess and destroy. She was denying it with ease, too used to the creature feeding on the souls of the destroyed. Now that was what she considered evil. She let her mind wonder a philosophical debate: how come the humans would ally with creatures of darkness but not half of their own species? Perhaps it was because they could not stand the fought of being inferior to one so blatantly similar to them, yet they got urged from the demons to fulfil both of their needs? She couldn’t be sure, not a single bit.

She turned her head to glare a death sentence, silent, cold and stunning at the two men that appeared when the door opened. One was a shoulder-length haired blonde with bags under his eyes and several scars and wrinkles adorning his skin, his eyes displaying the same dullness of a death body she may dispose of but also the same fearfulness of a cats, flashing and alert for it’s hunter. That one was Silver Bullet. She could guess a lot about him - the scars, the screaming of stress, the medication, the limp in his leg - but an orphanage rule was clear: the less you know the better; don’t discuss your history. She knew it was because some couldn’t remember or were born and bred in a cell - Albion had let that slip while extremely intoxicated. A sneer of a smile slipped past her lips of cold command as she addressed 049; her partner. They knew each other well by now, “Done?” he didn’t give a response, only returned an equally harsh glare that meant ‘correct’ in their language. Despite outward appearances, she got on reasonably well with the ash-blonde Norwegian boy with his curl and cold blue eyes. 

Briar jerked her head to Silver Bullet then down at Trigger. He didn’t need to be told twice, although she let out a snarl at the grumbling. She was his superior. A Priest rank didn’t exactly mean she was a force to be reckoned with, but she was a crap ton more help than the rest of them. Briar watched Silver Bullet grab Triggers hand and she ghosted her hand forward, manoeuvring the knife out of the boys grasp before he realized he wasn’t holding the thing.

They walked to the basement. She hated how dreary the place looked, although there was a sort of.. Fascination with the air of mystery the damp air brought. She sniffed it as if she hadn’t smelt the same things day after day for years. She quickly transformed mid-leap into a stoat and pulled herself up onto a wooden post to watch as Silver Bullet handed the young boy a gun. She felt nothing as the boy slipped on protective glasses and raised it, starting with practice targets of cans a meter or two away. He did decently, she’d give him that, hitting over each stack of three with no problem. Briar didn’t ponder long on the other siblings whereabouts; the Taiwanese lady had said Gust was going to Vigilant for some technology briefs, so that was that. Instead she chose to focus her eyes on the battle, watching it scornfully as the boy was raising guns against his own kind, against Silver Bullet, trying to hit a moving target. Why Bullet didn’t just turn into his morthling form she had no idea. It really wasn’t as hideous as he’d made it out to be. Crap ton of shit.

She dozed off for the rest of the battle; it was nothing interesting that she hadn’t seen countless times before. What did they take her for, an amateur soup?

Either way, she was lost in her thoughts, rarely registering as she was led out of the room by a pudgy hand to go and play dress-up with the two blonde Soups. He could complain to daddy later for all she fucking cared.

* * *

**YAO/LANTERN**

Yao was holding Ivan’s hand as they stood outside ‘Hilda’s coffee shop’. He’s happier than he’d like to admit, his arm loosely entangled with his beloved Sunflower as he pushed open the door. He counted out the change, “I’ll take a Vietnamese iced coffee, please. Oh, and a strong espresso double cream. How about you, Ivan?” he looked up at the younger boy, fluttering his eyelashes innocently, “I will take a Winter Melon Bubble Tea.”

They left the quaint corner shop hand in hand, “It was sweet of you to think of him,” Yao looked up in surprise at Ivan’s comment, “Well.. it seems nice to get him something..” he murmured, snuffling his nose into the Russian’s scarf. He was getting cold. “Da, my sweet podsolnukh. He’ll appreciate it. You always were one to think and it’s coming to the time of the month for our paychecks and I’ve been working very hard for my Yao-Yao. I might even deal Albion this month.” Yao smiled, “You shouldn’t worry so much! You and Albion can be so immature.. Just enjoy the fact we’re as free as we could possibly be and how much everyone does for us!” Ivan smiled. There was no denying that fact. He was happy where he was with Yao, although he wished he could buy him more expensive gifts for his pretty face so the Chinese man would be more inclined to stay with him. That’d be a trouble for another day though. He smiled as he watched the hips sway in the elegant walk.   
  
Yes - another day.


	2. One down

**FRANCIS**

Francis lounged back on his danity white couch, a faux fur blanket draped over the back to make himself more comfortable. His legs were open and he was relaxed, wine-glass between his fingers as he sipped at the liquid. He was comfortable at home and had no problems. Across from him Roderich was in Gilberts arms, letting the albino male play with his pecan-brown hair. Antonio was sitting on a seat, the only one with his legs crossed. He seemed rather tense that day, Francis noted, although he usually was when all four of them met up. He’d only asked for a glass of water - the Austrian and German had beer in front of them. Francis wrinkled his nose, he couldn’t quite understand the enthusiasm for the alcohol. He decided to start the conversation first on a new note, “Toni, mon ami, you’re looking so distant. Is there something or someone on your mind?” he winked suggestively at his Spanish partner. “Of course, Franny” Gilbert teased, “Or he’d be head over heels happy.” the comment only made Antonio frown, “Si - There was this cute little Italian boy at the bar, he must’ve only been a year younger than me. I got his number,” he informed them all with a cheerful grin.

Francis grinned back, “Aww, was he cute? Want to share that with us?” Gilbert burst out laughing, “Rejected” he taunted at Francis as Antonio shook his head. Francis noticed Roderich whack the underside of the German’s head. “So, ‘ow is your father, Gil?” Francis asked, changing the question. “Aldrich? Eh, he’s ancient now. Can’t believe how old he is - and he’s just gotten remarried,” the German shook his head, “He won’t give me that much money anymore! I have to live off my own work and some of the trust, can you believe it?” Francis gaped, “I don’t know how you do it, mon ami. I couldn't live if I didn’t have so much money,” he whined at Antonio, the only one of the four who’d grown up poor. They’d met at police school and had hit off immediately. Francis and Gilbert had known each other beforehand from social gatherings. Roderich? Francis only knew Gilbert’s fiance because of that. He was stuck-up and arrogant sometimes, quick frankly. Antonio merely smiled, “It can be tough at times.” his tone was slightly distant and he was staring into Francis’ garden. “Pierre is upstairs. He’s such a good familiar, delivering all my letters and being an excellent fighting dove. I’m sure ‘e is much stronger than your Gilbird by now.” Gilbert chuckled, “Hej, no fair! Gilbirds been busy”

Roderich sniffed disdainfully, sipping at the beer, “A bird is useless. We’re up against monsters, a bird can’t fight them, especially the types you have. You would be well advised to kill it.” Gilbert looked shocked, Francis swore he saw a flash of anger as he replied to his fiance, “Nein! Gilbirds been by my side forever.”

Francis watched Roderich cough on the liquid, shocked at being defied, “It is your own fault when you die then,” the Austrian snapped, “Now, Francis, are you coming to the Proms? Me and Gilbert are attending; some officials are very interested in meeting those who are protecting our streets.” Francis sighed, “Oui, I’ll come. I just need to find a pretty lady to take,” he gave a suggestive wink, “And you will be arranging accommodation” Roderich nodded, frustration on his face, “Yes. I know a lady you can take.”

Francis saw Gilberts face; he hated the formal events because of how he stood out - his red eyes and white hair were noticeable through a crowd of any size and he preferred to lay low, but he was able to change the subject, “So has anyone actually picked up on anything? They seem to be lying low since Squirrel was taken out.” Francis shook his head, “Non.. I haven’t seen any activity either. And we don’t know which squirrel we got - there are two.” Antonio chipped in quickly, “It was the older; he had darker hair. The one with a temper and put up a fight when we saw him first. We aren’t much closer on the ringleaders either - Rabbit and Bear. All we have is their files from the experiments naming them Arthur Kirkland and Ivan Braginski and some very blurry photos on their appearances.”

Francis hummed, “I met an Arthur just last week - he was acting funny and used a street name for me. He had blonde hair and this brilliant green eyes” Gilbert seemed to light up at the off-hand comment, “Did you get his number? Put a tracker on him?” “Non, I gave him my number but he hasn’t called back” “it could be him we are looking for, Francis,” he looked up at Roderich, “I don’t think it is.”

Gilbert slumped back, “We could still look into it for a lead. Say if you see him again, Franny.” Antonio finally spoke up from his chair, “João sent a message this morning saying your limousine is ready, Francis.” He smiled and clasped his hands together, standing up and moving blonde strands of hair out of his face and behind his ear, “Then let us go, mon ami. Thank him for being so quick.” he grabbed a beige coat and put it on, “Madeleine, clean the house while I am gone” he called out to his Canadian maid.

Francis led the other three out to his Mercedes and smiled at them, holding the door open for Roderich to ride shotgun. He stuck his tongue out at the German when he yelled, “No fair!” and got in on his side, turning on the ignition. He could have had his own chauffeur but preferred to drive himself, plus the four could discuss secrets without having to worry about a 5th silence contract. He pulled out of his driveway and attached his phone onto the aux cord, putting on Indila just to annoy the crap out of Gilbert, who really had to learn to appreciate such beautiful French music.

He pulled into the car-park of a dealership and immediately went to the premium reserved spots, leaving the car and locked the doors, “Don’t scratch the paint” he warned Gilbert with a teasing smile. He could see the awkward excitement on Antonios face. The two cousins, one Spainish and one Portugese, had a strange relationship that was more love-hate than he had ever seen. They fought and bickered a lot and had very little in common, yet they always defended and looked after the other. It was rather funny to Francis how they were so confused on what to feel for the other.

“Monsieur Lisboa-Carriedo?” he called out, waltzing into the dealerships glass doors without much care. He had the money, he just needed the car, and he could trust Antonio’s cousin to provide him with high-quality expensive car - what he had offered was a Rolls Royce black limousine. He welcomed the dirty-blonde João into his arms into a flirtatious hug, kissing both his cheeks. He looked shocked when he saw the same Arthur behind him, one hand on his hip, the other twirling a set of keys on his fingers. The other’s green eyes widened in surprise as well. Francis felt a firm hand grasp his shoulder, “Good to see you, your beautiful car is around the back: this is my friend, he is borrowing a car for a job,” he exchanged a smile with the long haired man and kissed his hand, “Mon ami, you’re looking more gorgeous ever purchase I make. I already know your friend, he is mine as well.”

“You never let me borrow anything and you let that runt borrow one of yours,” Gilbert challenged João accusing, making Francis breath in sharply, shooting his companion a glare. João seemed to only shrug, “It’s too much risk - he hasn’t betrayed my trust yet. Return it before 12, Albion” Arthur nodded and turned to leave, Francis looked over his shoulder and quickly pulled on his most charming smile, “Why don’t you join me tonight, Arthur?” he gazed into the striking green eyes that burned back at him, seeing infuriated by the challenge, “No. I have business.” Francis frowned, “But you must. I insist.” he took the man’s arm, noticing a light tinge settle on his cheeks. He really could be cute, “I will treat you, non?” “Fine,” was the subdued murmur he received back.

He was led out the back, Arthur on his arm as he inspected the limo. It was posh with beige leather seats and places for champagne to be stored as well as glass-holders. He turned on the large television, glad it was working well. He even discovered there was wifi on board. Yes, this would make for luxury transportation.

“I will take her for a test-ride tomorrow,” he announced to João, “Let us go inside, I’ll pay the deposit,” he reached in, taking out his credit card and swiping it contactlessly. He looked down at Arthur, who was staring at the floor. At this distance he could see his cheek bones jutted out unhealthily and he looked rather scrawny, he also had pale pasty skin and bags under his eyes. He looked sick and tired. Francis worried that his new friend maybe didn’t have enough to eat, or was going through abuse - he’d mentioned a hurtful job and being hunted down. If he could afford to make friends in high places such as a rich persons dealership, he really questioned what exactly his job was. Although, João has started off in poverty like Antonio - they could have been old friends from way back before João made a comfortable living for himself.

Once the formalities were completed, he shooed away his friends, telling the he now had a date with the pretty little thing beside him, which Arthur had looked appalled at, although he stayed in silence, not fighting back against any of this. Francis guided him to the car, opening the door and using his hand to lead him into the passenger seat. He then went onto his side and sat down, pushing on the pedal. He had to break the silence, “Mon amour, why did he call you Albion?” he noted how the smaller male squirmed in his seat and avoided eye-contact before coming up with an answer, “Street name, I don’t give out my real one - like I said, I’m being hunted. It’s too dangerous, which is why you should let me out immediately.” Francis met the heated gaze of Arthur, “Non, I think you agreed to a date, so I’ll hold up my end of the deal. I’m sure if you’re threatened I can save you.” he heard the sigh, “Remember that I said I had a job and that’s why I was borrowing a car?” Francis nodded in confirmation, “Considered that you’re currently stopping me from doing said job?”

Francis sucked in breath, panicking - he hadn’t thought about that. He played it as cool as he could, “Oui. But this will be worthwhile. Are you like every other Englishman and a fan of football?” he saw his eyes light up and his face turn into a grin, “Seems so,” he teased gently at his reaction, “oh, sod off, git.” he chuckled at the grumble he received, “You’re so cute, mon amour,” he noticed the eye-roll immediately, “I don’t know Frog, idiot.”

He parked in a spot, “I hope you don’t mind a walk” he thought the snort and snarky tone he received was adorable, “Of course not, I should be asking your lazy ass that.”  
“Well, thank you for caring, but I can assure you I’ll be fine,” he winked, immediately offering his hand to help him up, not shocked when it was batted away and Arthur let himself out, “Come on, slow rosbif,” he purposefully led with a brisk walk, causing the Englishman to scurry to his side.

Stamford Bridge was packed and they had to push to get to the front of the queue to use the VIP tickets Francis had gotten ahold of. They were led through a protected door around the back and taken to seats were they could see the whole stadium, even having the option to speak to the players beforehand. Francis refused, having seen the wondrous look Arthur was giving everything, a shimmer of childish discovery in his green eyes - he wanted it all to himself, to savour the moment.

“What team do you support,” he asked Arthur, drawing his attention away from the pitch where people were warming up, “I don’t, doesn’t seem fair, you frog?” he grinned, “I don’t care for English teams, as long as France wins the World Cup again I’m happy”  
He didn’t miss the snort and muttered, “Yeah, right.”

The match started with no problem, but once the stadium was full Francis knew something was wrong with Arthurs body language, as he was paying more attention to his impromptu-date than the game itself. His shoulders were stiff and he was bent slightly forward, his hands on his land and fists gripping his legs, which were together and his foot tapping. He was glaring at everything around him and almost hyperventilation, looking extremely uncomfortable and fearful. Francis hadn’t asked him if he had social anxiety - why hadn’t he mentioned if he did? It was not like they could up and leave now.

The tension only seemed relieved once they’d left the stadium and had escaped the worst of the crowds, although something was still on Arthur’s mind. “Why didn’t you tell me you dislike crowds? We can go somewhere more quiet and secluded next time,” he tried not to sound accusingly at Arthur, but he was confused on why he hadn’t been told. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, I’m sorry Francis, but we can’t be meeting up. I’m not interested.”

Francis’ face fell as Arthur slipped out of his grasp and hurried away, not explaining anymore of giving him a chance. He cursed himself; how could he have messed up that badly? All he wanted was to care for him. He felt his body aching, his mind a buzzing mess of confusion. All he knew was that he was hurt badly and wanted that man back in his grasp - he barely even knew him. He was so confused on why he wanted - needed - this stranger so much. Arthur had gotten into his head and buried himself deep. It wasn’t like any of the other dates or one-night stands he’d had. He wallowed in his own self pity, heading down the streets and around down towards a pub, the damn English and their sociability to only get alcohol in a public area where everyone wanted to chat and know what was wrong or be a loner and buy alcohol at the store to drink at home. He just wanted to be felt alone.

He felt the vibrations and frowned harder - he didn’t want to talk. He picked up his phone and regretted it immediately, “What is it, mon ami?” he sighed wistfully, letting on he did not want to be talking and allowing his heartbreak slip into his voice. He was not expecting the urgent shouts of, “Files checked and uploaded, Franny! You need to catch him, nein, put a bullet through his head. Where are you? I’m going to A304 Fulham Road to see if I can catch sight of him - if I see him, I'll try to run him to you, stay on call”  
“Rosemary Branch.”  
“What?”  
“He’ll be at Rosemary Branch bridge or will run there. I’ll be there”  
“I hope you know what you’re doing”

* * *

**GILBERT**

Gilbert attached his phone to his belt, wireless earphones in and microphone hidden on his shirt collar. He could hear Francis’ rapid breathing as he took in the information. Both of their hearts were probably pumping hard in the moment, bodies filled with adrenaline. He grinned, one hand on the steering wheel as he turned a corner sharply. The rabbit couldn’t have gotten that far; he had started walking from Stamford Bridge only ten minutes ago. Of course, Gilbert now had an idea of where he was heading and knew the roads a hybrid would instinctively pick: quiet, residential, plenty of cars parked. He quickly turned into a spot and threw his badge down, opting to get out. Something told him that on the next street was Arthur, the pesky brat.

He pulled his registered FN Five-Seven out of it’s protective pocket, glancing around the corner. Sure enough the blonde was walking down, back facing him. Gilbert fired two shots in quick succession, seeing the man jolt and jump upwards, managing to get up onto a car roof. The Rabbit stared back at him, eyes wide with shock before following his instincts to flee. Gilbert ran after him, shooting whenever deemed necessary and lodging bullets into the side of cars. He cursed at how fast the Rabbit could run as he launched himself over a wall, following the others steps. They seemed to be running through alleyways with multiple objects and at one point, he thought he’d lost sight: in front of him as a wall the size of a two-story building.

He barely had time to react and put his arms up in a defensive cross position when a leg came forward, meaning to kick him in the face. He grabbed the limb and tossed the body to the side towards a house. He heard it hit, saw the body fall to the ground, skidding across the concrete and leaving red dashes in its wake, and then he saw the body get up with a grin and shoot off, back the way it came and out of the alleyway. He cursed the pain shooting through his arm, the brat had bent a finger back and the concentrated pain hurt like hell. He was pretty sure that the blood was coming from something lodged inside. Gilbert took his finger into his mouth, licking the sensitive flesh and tasting the salty blood, gulping it down. He then followed suit, laughing slightly. He’d like to see the little ones face scrunched up in pain even more now.

Gilbert sprinted, feeling the muscles in his leg pump. They were shoving past bystanders and several shouted agitated leers at the two. He saw the river; the bridge. And he saw Francis standing there, although he was doing excellently well at blending into the crowd. He quickly hid himself where he could watch. Arthur stared, searching across the streets for him. Gilbert chuckled lowly - he hadn’t seen Francis walk up behind him and pull out his own Pamas G1.

There was a sound of a bullet and Gilbert saw the blood splatter onto the ground and ruby droplets fall down onto the sapphire water. He quickly stepped out into the traffic and redirected it, calling in for a roadblock, “Good job, Franny” he cheered, ignoring the forlorn face on his buddy as he finally walked up to him, slapping him on the back. In front of them both was the bloody body of Arthur Kirkland, the Rabbit, coat drawn a bit back to reveal the fluffy stumped tail of a lop bunny. There was no breathing coming from him and Gilbert grinned, “That should be less crime now. A ringleader down! We’re going to save this streets soon and I can finally avenge her death. Drinks on me” he nudged Francis, who offered a small smile on nodded, “Yes - one more down.”

* * *

**MATTHEW/GUST**

Gust happily held Kāihuā’s hand, walking beside her. He was a bit scared - everyone had heard what had happened to Venice - but he was confident his big brother Albion would look after them, so he could smile knowing he and Trigger were safe, “When do you think big brother will be home?” he asked, smiling sweetly at the Taiwanese girl. She looked down at him and smiled back, “He said he’d be out for a few hours and be back for bed-time so he can tuck you in after I read you a story.”  
“What’s Trigger going to be doing, Miss?”  
“He’s with Briar and Silver Bullet, they’re going to be teaching him a few things”

Gust nodded - his brother would enjoy that more than he would. He found Briar a little scary and while Silver Bullet was usually quite nice, he could forget to stop when it hurt during training, “Who will we be visiting?”  
“We’ll be doing some fun games with Vigilant, how does that sound?”  
“Oh! It sounds good, Miss”  
“You don’t need to call me Miss,” she giggled, “I’m only a Protector, which you’ll be really soon! You just have to grow taller and then you’ll be like the rest of us!”  
“What if someone’s really young but really tall?”  
“Then Grandpa will take their age into account! No one will become a Protector until he’s sure they’re ready for the outside world, so you should be confident in your abilities”

Gust felt a warmth in his chest. He knew Trigger would become a protector quick - he was strong and intelligent with amazing natural instincts. He received high praise from Albion and everyone who trained with him. He really was proud of his new twin brother. When they were older, he could become protector first and look after him! He was excited for that, he loved seeing joy in his brothers bright sky-blue eyes. They could share their moment with their big brother, who’d be proud of them, and maybe one day they could have soups of their own to train! Gust loved the idea - he wanted his own little ones when he was old enough, to raise and protect like Grandpa was doing for them. He really, really respected Grandpa - he was kind and caring.

They were heading upstairs and he let go of Kāihuā’s hand, running forward and knocking on the big wooden door, scampering in as soon as the tall man with blond hair and glasses opened it. He grabbed a cushion from the corner and placed it on one of the spinney chairs, climbing up and sitting down cross-legged, looking at the two adults proudly as he pulled himself towards the computer already on. The screen was black and had the first line of green text already on it. He squeaked with delight, “there needs to be a semi-colon, I think, Mr.”  
“Correct”   
Gust let out another gleeful noise at getting it correct and editing the line of code. He heard Vigilant sit down and wipe his glasses clean before taking the keyboard away, “Just something I started, was having a play around on making a simpler bubble sort code than the one I already have. Now - do you remember the four types of malware I taught you?”  
“Spyware, Virus, Trojan and Worms,” he recited, closing his eyes to do so. Gust enjoyed computer technology - it was less risky but meant he was still being useful.  
“The difference between Trojan, Worm and Virus?”  
“Trojans can not replicate themselves, Virus’ can only replicate with user help and Worms can do it themselves”  
“And what do you mean by user help?”  
“Opening or copying files to activate the Virus, Mr!”

He puffed out his chest proudly and accepted the sweet offered to him, sucking on the candy and loving how it melted in his mouth. Vigilant was kind to him, he was aware that he was one of the Estonian man’s favourites in the Orphanage - although they weren’t really supposed to have favourites - although he could be stern and an impatient teacher. He spent a lot of time cooped up on the internet and taught his ways only to those who would listen. Gust didn’t like how dark the room could be without a window as Vigilant sometimes forgot to turn the lights on, but he was too frightened to ask, so he just sat there on those days. Kāihuā had turned on the lights on her way in, luckily.

Gust saw the bar of a special program loading up and frowned - he’d really wanted to work on the C++ coding project Vigilant was helping him on. Oh well - he wasn’t going to ask. The blue light illuminated parts of Vigilants face, Gust was curious whether those were wrinkled he saw or whether it was just the facial expression he was making, “Can you think of what would be on an Acceptable Use Policy?”

Gust put his hand under his chin and thought, racking his brain for ideas, “Umm.. maybe having passwords with capital letters, numbers or symbols is a pretty common one, or a lengthy password, or a bar that shows password strength.. Maybe where the company has an encrypted server full of the data to protect it and the addresses in another server?”

He opened his eyes to see Vigilant’s expression go to thrilled, “You’re an intelligent boy, you have a lot of potential. If only your brother was half as good as listening as you.”  
Gust squirmed stiffly - anyone talking negatively about Trigger just felt wrong to him, so he gave a grateful, “Thank you,” to the first part and sat in silence afterwards, staring at the screen as Vigilant continued, “So that is what the policy will do - as hackers we need to get around that, we have the upper-hand knowing. So we need to get the addresses and the data or have a program that can run through all possible passwords - usually they start with a capital and end with numbers.” Gust nodded and started typing a basic DDOS code into the new program with the occasional instruction from Vigilant, “No inverted commas there, Gust..”

He lent back in the chair when he saw done, sucking on his thumb and biting his nail. He felt his heart beating rapidly, waves of anxiousness looming over him as he pressed ‘run’ on the fake server. He saw the writing highlight as it was worked through and processed before completing. He let out the breath he’d been holding when big letters chimed ‘success’.

“Go treat yourself to some ice cream” he suggested and Gust nodded, heading off into the kitchen.

He was sat in bed and thinking about the day, Trigger had collapsed beside him and was now fast asleep, chest rising and falling. Kāihuā had read them a bed-time story and after an hour of worried waiting without Albion’s return, she’d gone to check with the Old Man. He stared up at her when she entered back in, shaking her head. The pit in his stomach grew and he burst out crying, letting sobs rack his body and warm, wet tears trickle down his cheeks. He tried to rub his eyes, but it only caused pain. The fear he felt for his big brother in that moment was tremendous.

Kāihuā could only hold him close as he exhausted himself wailing. He fell asleep on her whispering, "He's probably just late. He'll be back by morn."


	3. Throne

* * *

** ALDRICH/OLD MAN**  
  
Aldrich looked dulled as his dull blue eyes watched the television, ignoring the hand on his waist that was creeping lower and lower by the second. It paused as Romeo heard it  
on the television and darted upwards, straightening to see the scene. It was terrifying to the both of them: they hated losing their grandchildren to these witch hunts. Christoph was hanging behind the married couple, leaning against the love seat and also paying attention to the news, “Another one down, look, there’s Gil. He’s gotta be proud and happy for avenging Brunhilde once again”

Aldrich didn’t move a muscle, not letting his face give anything away, but he could feel Romeo’s hand tense and start to massage circles into his side, an annoyingly ticklish motion. He refused to react to it - his husband could deal with his anxiety on the matter himself. “Brunhilde is cherished, Christoph, but revenge is not right here. Take that into account. It is not always a good answer to fight.” Christoph grinned, fringe falling over his eyes, “Ja. I will, don’t you worry vater.”

Aldrich swore he saw an eye-roll from his eldest son before he left.

The procession was over-extravagant, showing off the termination on what was counted as a worthless life and trying to show threat to those who protected or associated with the remains of the human experimentation program. It showed the four Beetles marching in army uniform, the crowns emblems emblazoned on their chests. Their chins were up and confident, a malicious gleam in each of their puny eyes. A young boy with the feathers on his red-brim hat was carrying a vase with the ashes inside. Their body language was initiating a war and Aldrich could easily see where his biological sons got their ideas from. If only they weren’t so ignorant to the reality.

“What do you think will happen to us”   
“Nothing, everyone will be  _ fine, _ ” Aldrich gave a reassuring smile to his husband

* * *

**IVAN/SUNFLOWER**

Ivan found himself standing facing the large oak tree in the garden for the second time in less than two weeks. His normal smile was dim and his eyelid hooded, lowered out of respect. He had a bit of admiration for Albion's stubborn and prideful ability to be resilient through any situation - he had probably gone down fighting right at the very end. From what he’d been told the death was instant and he wouldn’t have felt a thing, or at least not for longer than a split second. He could see Lantern grimacing - how long until one of them was next? Sunflower sighed. It was like he was on a countdown timer for the bomb to explode and take him away as well. Maybe in the end he wouldn’t even need to do anything to have the curtains close on him.

His eyes fluttered to Lantern how as crouched down, hands muddy as he moved dirt out of the ways, giving hushed calming words to the two children that were wailing uncontrollably at the lose of a loved one - the murder was hitting them hard and Lantern was a natural mother turning to soothe them, he was trying extremely firmly and offering the comfort only someone of that figure could give. Sunflower had often pondered if Albion really was more like a mother to the two boys. He would have to bring that up in conversation - there was no second guardian for him to work with and the two Soups were left without a mentor to help them through the learning stages. Someone would have to take over and guard them. And if Lantern wished to adopt the two, he could certainly accommodate them and pull a few things to make sure it worked out.

He was daydreaming as the box was put into the ground and then covered up with dirt, considering the new options in the future - he was top hybrid now. He had a lot to do without the overwhelming influence of another person. Gust and Trigger were still crying and the noise was starting to annoy him, as endearing as it was. He crouched down and picked up Trigger under the arms, “You are a plane, da?” he suggested, listening to the boy giggling slightly as he was placing on his shoulders, able to see a view. Gust seemed shyer and was hugging Lantern’s arm. Sunflower offered them a warm smile.

He beckoned for his beloved to come lover and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “Would you like children one day, Lan-Lan? Of our own”   
“I would like that very much,” Sunflowers heart beat faster at that smile directed at him, “But we are both male and would have to adopt.” Ah, there Lantern goes - ruining his fantasies.    
“There are two youngsters with no parents that are annoying, we can take them”   
“Sunflower!” Lantern scolded in a whisper, “They’ve just lost him! You can’t just talk like that as if he’s been gone for ages. They probably don’t want new parents yet and should have the choice to pick.”  
“Trigger, would you like new parents?”   
“Parents? Cool! They sound awesome and I-I can be the hero for them b-because I can’t be that for A-Albion..” the young boy hiccuped before rubbing his eyes and snivelling again. Sunflower didn’t miss the ‘I told you so look’ Lantern gave him.

Sunflower shrugged and put Trigger down on a swing, rubbing his fingers through Lantern’s ponytail, “I be back in a minute, da? I need to go check. There is a strange smell,” And with that, he turned and left. He headed into the storage room, hand on his metal pipe. It was frozen and sharp - hurt like a bitch in a brawl. He let out a warning growl as he headed into the musty-smelling room. He paused, looking up confused at the manifestation of Albion sitting on top of a cabinet. He was silvery white with flecks of amber and transparent, fading and ebbing every second. Ivan could see that the rumour of him missing a lung was, in fact, false. “What are you doing here, comrade?” he asked gravely. He felt smug as Albion jumped, “Bloody hell - I’m suffering, my head fucking kills. Give a man a break. I just wanted some quiet while I regain my body”

Sunflower grimaced and shook his head, “Your body was burnt to a crisp. You are pronounced deceased to the public - it is a bad idea for you to stay in London or leave the Orphanage where you may be recognized for being eliminated.” he could see the realization poor down Albion’s face, “But.. the old chaps.. They said it’d be okay if I stayed here, Sunflower,” he glared accusingly, hostile evident. “I would not be so sure, Albion,” he responded coolly. This was an interesting development - Albion could create a new body if the other one was gruesomely injured, however it was fragile and there wasn’t knowing what would happen to the original one, “I am sure they will find you a job, da?”

Albion nodded glumly, “My two sweet angels.. What will happen? They think I am dead and I’m not sure, like you said, if I can stay in London. I can send money if I get a job elsewhere, maybe in Ireland or Scotland.. I don’t want them to be stripped away from me a second time,” Sunflower almost felt pity for those pleading eyes, “I will look after them,” he laid a hand on Albion's shoulder, “They will not know you live until the Old man has decided, do we have a deal?”   
“As long as you uphold your side. Now fuck off before they get suspicious”

Sunflower walked slowly back, contemplation what he’d been able to read in Albion’s body language compared to what he had overheard in snippets of conversation. He had learnt that Albion’s situation was similar to his own. His mother despised him, beating him and abandoning him until he was forced to come crawling back for basic survival. The thought of a shaking child, afraid and unable to turn or find anyone to trust, fighting the bitterness welling in their heart that had seeped from Grandfather Frost’s icy clutches. He disliked having his attention brought to life, but it was peaceful to know he was not the only one. They had both been sold by their mothers, which could be why Albion was so firm on only being ‘big brother’ - he was too paranoid that he would fuck up like both of their mothers. He smiled - sometimes he could be so naive.

He faked a smile when he went back into the garden, burying his nose into his scarf to smell the familiar scent of his sister, the little robin who had loved him and given him what he needed to live. Now he had Lantern to care for - he would bring him expensive gifts whenever he could. He always took the highest paying jobs just for that. He always seemed to adore receiving gifts - just like how his mother adored getting money. He was forced to work hard to bring in enough cash for her spending habits. If that was what it took to keep him, he would be all too happy to oblige. He loved the look of pleasure on Lantern’s face as he received another gift - and now Sunflower could afford him, which made him want to do it more.

The garden was rather large and had a wall wooden fence surrounding it. The grass was allowed to grow, although it got moved every spring so it wouldn’t be too high in the summer. The younger ones adored frolicking about among the flowers that were allowed to grow. There was an oak tree at the end with a string attached by chains to the branch - Briar had set it up. Several hedges and flowerbeds were scattered around the borders as well to try and make the outside look more presentable from the glass living-room window. He chuckled, knowing Lantern probably appreciated the effort more than he let on.

The two boys were forgetting their worried by running around the garden, chasing each other with plastic water guns. Lantern was watching them contently and Sunflower slipped in, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Lantern’s eyes really did dazzle as he watched them - yet Sunflower was unsure he had made the right choice. He kept a smile up despite his griefs on the situation.  
“Ivan, can you make sure they don’t get hurt while I make some dumplings as a snack?” Lantern asked in a hush voice.  
He was surprised by the use of his real name but nodded, “Da.”  
It wasn’t too hard and the boys had worn themselves down by the time Lantern had returned. He pecked his partner on the lips, “XieXie,” he murmured

* * *

**FRANCIS**

Francis hated the window seat. His fingers were drumming on the table as he scowled accusingly at the window. The train was clicking up and down. He’d been sent out only the next day! And to Edinburgh! Work was heartless to him - he needed time to get over his brooding soul. He pampered his hair, fluffing it up a little as he stared vainly in the window at his reflection, trying to distract himself. It didn’t work for very left as he felt the involuntary squeeze on his heart and plummeting feeling in his gut.

Staring at himself make him contemplate what a shit person he was. His breath quickened as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to curse away the memories, but they gave back, dancing around him. Arthur had anchored his gaze on his own, spring green, deep as a forest, expanding and flitting with fear as he raked them across the handgun. The way he sucked in his cheeks momentarily before gracefully slumping to the floor, a thick scarlet substance oozing its way out of the circular hole in his forehead, staining the subtle skin. Francis had barely registered the backlash on his hand or resonate. His body was lying lifeless, face that’d been twisted in bewilderment now had a soft expression etched on it. Petals of red rested on his brow. He really was alluring, even as a corpse. He had barely acknowledged Gilbert whooping afterwards and repeated hoarsely after him, not wanting to think. He hadn’t wanted to accept watching the body fade into ashes. The first thing he had asked for was Francis’ protection and he’d given his promise - the last thing was his eyes begging for life and then ending.

Now this stupid job was sending him to go kill some rich illegal gamblers new pet hybrid. He’d never had problems killing before, it was humane after all. These creatures were threatening to society and menacing - the result of an experiment gone wrong. Now they worked in the Underworld servicing all the illegal doings beneath the normal working humans eye. They couldn’t feel, so he’d had no remorse for the beasts. It was different with Arthur. He could feel, he was a damaged product of his job and he wanted to escape - surely that couldn’t have been normal? Or were his perceptions on the vile creatures incorrect the whole time?

The grueling waves were washing over him as he got off the train, awake and alert. He was aware of his surroundings completely, taking in every body that passed and viewing them differently, judging them for what he had believed only a day prior. The grief had buried itself deep into his heart and had made itself a cozy nest, causing a tender fluttering sensation occasionally in amidst his constant sorrows. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in a blanket and sleep it off, but he knew it would not do, and right then he, Francis Bonnefoy, had a purpose.

Francis walked into the elevator, the decoration continuing on the inside. It was adorned with golden crests. He pressed the buttons for the ground floor and second floor at the same time. He felt the elevator jolt upwards, making a sick sensation rest in his stomach. He was glad the rest of the ride down was smooth. When he entered it took his will-power not to gawk as he marveled at the sight in front of him.

There were people milling and maids in revealing outfits - shirtless butlers carrying glasses of red and white wine - entertainment flirts offering him their hands. The room was a bright white with cream coloured chairs surrounding dark oak paneling on the ceiling and walls. Under his feet was a crimson red carpet, decorated with golden swirls and groomed especially for the occasion. He couldn’t see past the few guests standing up, but there seemed to be several places hidden by large quartz pillars, spirals embellishing them. On the walls were trophies of stuffed stag heads and exquisite paintings, hand-made to bring out every corner of the room. The lighting was vivid and illuminated every corner. He could practically sink into the beautiful his eye was beholding. If only he wasn’t here to kill some pet he might have been able to properly enjoy himself!

He strolled through the room and all self-composure he had collapsed as he stared, awe-stuck, by the sight in front of him. The chair was large and plush with velvet coverings and lavished in colours. On it sat a rather tall and muscular man, cards in one hand and the other tugging on some poor maids auburn hair. Francis could see the pricks of pain in her eyes as she complied as scurried off. The man had dramatically green eyes and scruffy red hair, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

But his eyes were not as distinctive as the man’s that sat on his lap; the man that had rendered him speechless.

The man he had murdered.

He felt a new emotion - a mixture of distress and fear - as he tried to come to terms with the fact. The same eyes were giving him this trouble, blazing with a furious anger as he realized who it was glaring right back at him. Arthur was wearing a skimpy outfit that showed off his natural curves, the lacy lingerie resting along his crotch and causing Francis’ lips to dry. He had black lace stockings that showed his skin, held up by a garter that settled above his waist. He then had several leather straps along his chest and a collar around his neck. Francis was embarrassed to think about how much it was affecting him along with the definite feisty hatred in Arthur’s eyes. His chin rested on his hand, elbow on the edge of the throne-like seat. He was, luckily, slightly smaller when sat down, which relieved him only slightly.

He was puzzled to say the least, but barely had time to look quizzically at Arthur before he stood up, whispered a few words to the bloke behind him, and elegantly walked down the carpet towards him. Francis’ eyes narrowed as he watched the petite hips sway, one leg perfectly aligned in front of the other.

“Get on your knees, peasant,” he snarled, spit landing on Francis’ face. He felt rather disgusted as he stared at the Brit, “What?”   
“You heard me. On your knees,” he sneered back, not even hesitating to kick Francis in the gut when he didn’t react within seconds. Francis choked, he guessed he deserved it, but it was a harsh kick. He gave in and peeled over, feeling thoroughly humiliated as he knelt in front of the man. He hated the crooning tone, the fact hands on his chin, “Good boy.. Master has tamed me, so I’ll tame you. Now kiss my feet like a good dog..” Francis hesitated, not looking up. He felt a forceful slap to his cheek, the sound of skin on skin screeching through his ears in a negative way. He closed his eye to protect it and winced before lowering his head and co-operating, pressing chaste kisses to Arthur's feet. He didn’t look up as he heard a melodically sweet tone, “Master, may I please be excused to have some fun with this boy? He was the one I told you about, master, who got me exiled.” he could just imagine those blond lashes fluttering and his head tilted, arms together in front of him, cheeks flushed pink and those long, fluffy hairs draping down to rest on his shoulders.

He let out a strained choking noise as he was pulled by the back of his shirt, looking up to see the cold, brassy vision of his old companion tugging him alone. The friction of the material on his skin was uncomfortable. He was coerced into standing and when Arthur snapped his fingers decided it was better if he complied and followed the male. As soon as they went through the staff door, he started spouting questions, “What are you going to do to me? How are you alive? Why are you here?” For his efforts he only received a low chuckle, “You’ll see, sweetheart.”

He was taken to a place that surprised him - it was simply a kitchen. What he didn’t know about Arthur’s lack of abilities in that area wouldn’t hurt him. “I’m surprised it isn’t some sort of creepy dungeon,” he mused, mostly to himself. “What kind of bloody films have you been watching?” Arthur retorted, grabbing a spatchula and waving it threateningly at him, “You fucking - how fucking dare you. It wasn’t even an equal battle. Do you know what I’ve had to go through? I had to watch my own two little brothers cry themselves to sleep, sob until they’re too parched to do so because it’s agonizing for them? Do you know how cut up they were because of my supposed death and I could do nothing about it - nothing to comfort them?”

Francis opened his mouth and hawked at him before closing it again, “I’m sorry. I have nothing I can say and an apology is barely anything. It doesn’t prove my actions were wrong,” Francis took a deep breath as he prepared to dive into the shit-hole called feelings, “Albion - Arthur, mon lapin, since I saw you at the bridge I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I didn’t horrible - terrible things to you and your little brothers and I regret every single thing. I wish I could take you out now, out of the atrocious job and protect you - yes, all three of you if I could manage,” he was lying through the skin of his teeth. He wanted  _ Arthur, _ not his little nuisances. He disliked children.

“Liar,” he snarled back, green orbs aflame again out of pure spite, “You’ll just try and murder me again - you never will fucking protect me. You’re so bloody fickle - one minute you love, the next you hate. I can’t trust you. Even the fucking pig-head out there who I have to call master to live is better than the wretch you are.”

Francis hung his head low. It stung deep, deep down. It wretched and tore at his heartstrings, “I was wrong, mon ami. Just.. give me a chance. The least I can do is shelter you in my place, you can have all the luxuries you want, you’ll never starve or be wounded - you think I can’t see the scars? That is a  _ very _ sexy outfit you have on, by the way, mon lapin.”

He could see the conflict spark between Arthur’s eyes as he tried to come to a decision. Francis kept a placid smile, trying to silently encourage him until he heard the low growl, “On one condition”   
“Whatever you wish for”   
“You will not try and get information out of me.”

That was more than enough for Francis as he picked Arthur up, giving him a twirl around and grinned, “Oh, mon lapin, you won’t regret it! I will look after you completely, even if it means risking my friends and job”  
“Yes, now, let go of me.”

Francis chuckled at his still prickly mood, spirit lightened massively at his achievement. And he meant every word he said. He quickly laid a kiss on one of Arthur's furry ears, not carrying as he winced away, “Care to explain why you’re still alive, no matter the joy it brings me?”

“Oh? Your demon didn’t warn you I had an angel contract and could mess with time? What a shame, she really must be a disappointing piece of work,” Arthur grinned, giving him a taunting look. Francis’ mouth gaped open, “Dieu - you’re kidding?” the look he got in return most definitely assured him he was, in fact, not kidding. He cursed his demon, she had to leave out important information and say she ‘forgot to mention it’ when it was crucial to whether he lived or died? What did she think he’d entered a blood contract with her for?

“What do you feed an angel then?”   
“The same thing you feed a demon,” he replied shortly, “Now, your body has just been disposed of outside. Unfortunately, you are still alive and manage to escape before anyone has seen you,” he opened the window, “You are travelling to the station where you are waiting for a friend to catch the final night train.”

Francis nodded and watched his lapin saunter back off to the illegal gambling hall. Well, he was in quite the predicament. He could tell the young undercover cop the outfit was props and not real. He sighed and climbed out, walking along the streets considerably more joyous and even stopping to kiss and few Scottish women’s hands - ah, yes, Edinburgh was now his third most favourite city he decided.

He waited patiently at the station and saw the bedraggled, wet, body, wrapped up in a black coat leap over a wall. He signaled to the soaking bundle and pulled Arthur close to him as he approached, letting them share his body warmth to try and subdue the shivering. He’d have to get his proper clothes - stockings were not valid clothes for a chilly night. He buried his nose into Arthur's hair, taking in his scent. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him, he decided, he could live in the suite comfortably. But, all that could be worried about once they got home.

“What did you mean by play with time?”   
“Do you hear me? I’m right here,” the whisper seemed to be coming from multiple directions, causing Francis head to spin, he could see multiple forms of the Brit, one staring at him from the top of the fence, “I am a past manifestation, I am present, and I am the future,” three voices spoke, sounding almost identical apart from a slight difference in tone.

“Oui, oui, I get it. That’s pretty cool - do you think you could teach me?”   
“Erm, as far as I know, it’s a side effect of the experiment..”  
The tone turned awkward between them and Francis could just smell the tension in the air, “You do not seem so bad for a self-proclaimed monster,” he finally breathed into the void.  
“The only monster here are Beetles.”  
“And now I am protecting you against them,” he hummed  
“Like hell you are,” Francis heard Arthur mutter darkly. Of course he wasn’t shocked by the lack of trust. It would heal with time. Although.. Would Arthur purposefully avoid it? He hoped not.


	4. Chapter 4

**Arthur/Albion**

Arthur sat, curled up on the couch, watching Francis read a newspaper, a steaming mug of cocoa on the table. Arthur had been told he could have some, but he politely refused – he was not becoming anymore indebted to the man. He had practically kidnapped him. But, he could be closer to his two little boys from his apartment.

He jumped and flinched back, curling his legs up and under him, covered onto by an over-sized fluffy shirt given to him, the rest of the lingerie hidden underneath. Francis groaned and headed upstairs – Arthur noticed his cheeks were flushed. He considered that he might be ill – that was the most logical explanation. They’d been out in torrential rain and cold..

His nostrils flared at the scent coming from upstairs. Oh. _ Oh. _He had never wanted to fuck his rabbit instincts more. He whimpered into the couch, rocking himself for some friction, gentle teasing strokes.

He’d never gone without before. He doubted he could do it now. So he took the mug in his hands, ignoring the burn and pattered upstairs, rapping quietly on the bedroom door before entering. He almost dropped the mug in burning surprise. Francis was there, stroking his hard cock through the fly it came out of. It made his mouth water. He placed the cocoa down on the table, mesmerized by the slight sweat on his brow. He had never been more thankful for how silently he could move when he put his mind to it.

He whined at the sweet scent, climbing onto the bed and letting the mattress dip, ignoring Francis’ look of utter horror and quick attempt to either move himself away or cover up with the duvet. He reached his slim fingers out, drawing the tips along the length and then in circular motions over the slit. He bent down; lapping at the foreskin and then pushing it back to suck the edge of the gland underneath. He caught eye contact with Francis and pulled his lips away, returning the stare and waiting obediently for permission, shuffling his hands on the mattress impatiently.

“Are you okay?”

His jaw opened, agape. Out of all the responses he could’ve been given, Francis went for that one. He nodded gingerly, “Can I?”

He groaned, “Only if you really want to, mon lapin”

He hummed, returning to running his tongue up and down that hot shaft, taking care to play along the veins and suck on his balls, rolling them around his mouth, “Anything to be close to satisfied”

“I have quite a stamina, I’m sure I can satisfy you”

“That’s what they all say,” he smirked, then winced, brows twisting up in fear. No blow struck him and he slowly unravelled, relaxing and returned to his lavish treatment.

“I don’t want to force you into this..”

“I want to,” Arthur snapped with a glare.

He let the salty residue stay in his mouth, squeezing at the base as he scrambling to unbutton Francis’ shirt. He needed it. That perfect, solid chest, the strength of muscles holding him down and fucking him until he forgot just what he was. He let out a squirm of delight as he finally got to run his fingers through the fluffy chest hair, left especially for him.

Francis groaned – he adored it when he was touched in such a way. Something about feeling needed by his lovers and not just a one night stand, as good as they were. It gave him a sense of trust and will. It was strange that Arthur was so willing so quickly, but he was not one to complain. He hadn’t been able to get that pert derrière out of his head, the lithe body contrasted with black and the emeralds adorning his eyes, glinting with mischief as if he wasn’t wanted by every man in the country.

He reached up, wrapping his arms around the boys shoulders, tracing the jut of the bones as he pushed against Arthurs lip, forcing him further down, eyeing the way his back arched just so, leaving that magnificent ass in the air, intentionally or not. It was rounded and curved, filled with plump, and above it thinned into his stomach, leaving perfect spaces on his hips to rest his hands on. He reached down, delighted at how firm the cheek was as he squeezed, rolling it in his palm and kneaded. The chorus of whines Arthur was giving him now was glorious, each one sending a jolt up his member.

Arthur moved his lips against Francis’ – they were soft, as if coated with honey. Francis’ tongue was expertly moving upwards, exploring his mouth as it was the last drop he could taste. He pulled away, panting, licking up the bead of saliva that connected them.

From the look he was giving him, Francis seemed to get the hint. He swapped them around, which great tenderness to Arthurs surprise – he’d usually have been slammed down and tied up within seconds. What shocked him even more was how calm Francis was as he explored his drawers, trying to find something. He let out another whine and lifted his leg, showing the sticky liquid that had already collected there, silver against his pale skin and glistening. He was already trying to squeeze a non-existent thing inside of him.

Francis’ hand closed around the lubricant as he lifted Arthur’s leg onto his shoulder. He was shocked when he saw a natural pool had already formed on the bed sheets and around the ring of muscle he was planning on invading. He leant down, directly over the younger man and peppered kisses over his hairless chest, pausing at a bud to roll his tongue around it and graze his teeth against the top, sucking roughly as a stimulant, rubbing his fingers in lube to try and warm it up frantically. The howls of moans were becoming overbearing as he moved to give the other bud on Arthur’s chest equal treatment.

Arthur couldn’t believe it when something thin, small intruded him. It was nothing. He opened his eyes, disappointment obvious in his gaze. He was so aroused, so wet already. Why was Francis preparing him? He needed him, his dick, deep inside of him so he could feel everything. And he planned to make that known, “Get your cock in my ass for fucks sake, or I’ll bite it off”

“Is this how you treat everyone?”

“Only the worst”

“I’d rather prepare you to avoid the risk of further injuries”

“Damn it! I’m a female rabbit. I produce slick. I don’t need stretching or lubricants if the other person gets me aroused, it’s just a few are absolutely shit at that.”

Francis chuckled at his outburst, but complied, withdrawing his wet finger and pushing in. He groaned at the feeling – tight warmth that felt almost made for him. He pulled at the edge of the stocking, cold hand touching warm thigh, “Wear this again for me?”

“Only if you fucking move”

Arthur was fed up after Francis laughed again. He would bite that cock off, and it would be a waste and- ooh. He arched his back, closing his eyes and lifting his hands above his head instinctively as his hips were drawn into Francis’ lap and he was pounded into. He was rolling his hips against Francis’ own movements, mewling out because of the pleasure. Right there – he was hitting it. Francis had been trained so well by others.

Sweat was staining his brow as he got his wish, feeling every movement as his muscles contracted and loosened around the shaft filled him. He could feel every inch rub against his prostate, sending jolts of electricity and trickles of pleasure down his spine. He was completely and utterly losing himself into the movements as he gasped, unable to keep down air. His arms were shuddering, his moans becoming louder, more desperate, more needy.

There, there, there. It was everything, it was life, it was perfect. He was feeling overpowered as his body shook, taken to a new euphoric height.

Francis had his eyes closed now, losing himself to the rhythm and the intensity he felt in his lower regions. It was all he could do to keep smashing himself into the tight hole that beckoned him, practically calling his name as loudly as Arthur did. He moaned into plush flesh. He was holding on as he felt Arthur go through his first shout of arousal, his cock still bouncing on his tensing stomach as splatters of cum covered him. It’d been seeping out since he started, he noted.

He was relieved that the tight squeezing was no longer doing wild things to his cock so he could keep the sensation under control, but it was still building up. He could tell Arthur was having another one soon enough, so he reached down and pumped that adorable cock, so fitting to the rest of his slim body. He wanted to see that cute face twisted into an ejaculatory release, his mouth open wider and more sweat painting his brow, a stronger scent of pheromones and most importantly the secondary cry of his name. He was doing pretty well if he said so himself.

It was a shame even he had his limits. His vision went white and blurry and his pace went from erratic to slower as he allowed himself to release into the tight muscles surrounding him. He lent over Arthur, pressing against his leg as he rubbed the cum from Arthur’s stomach onto his dick. It’d been a while since he’d met someone so erotic and body so freely taking him as if he was the last resource.

He flipped Arthur onto his stomach as soon as he saw he was done basking in the immediate afterglow – his impatience had returned and those monsters he called eyebrows were cocked up expectantly at him. Francis started rutting immediately; irrationally living within the moans of Arthur and the oversensitivity that was his cock in that moment..

..He groaned as he released again into the slicked up and burning hole, shaft exhausted and aching, begging him not to dare have another round. Arthur was sat on top of him, removing himself from the side and looking too upset for him to cope. He swatted the hand that went for his dick away with a pained groan. He couldn’t bring it to harden despite the idea of further pleasure. He almost felt sick to be frank. How Arthur was still going he was unsure – he was certain he had counted a total of twenty four orgasms, ejaculatory or not. He himself had had seven. They’d been going at it for hours and even the bright light of his alarm clock was causing his brain system problems. Arthurs hair was dishevelled and sticking to him, drool trickling down his swollen bruised lips.

“No more tonight”

“It’s morning”

“No more this morning then”

“I thought you said you’d satisfy me”

“I didn’t realize you could go so long”

“Should’ve thought of that before mating a female rabbit, twat”

He raised an eyebrow at that, looking at the fluffy ears and adorable pout. He reached out and stroked one, trapped in the soft fur. How could something so cute have such an arrogant personality? He glanced down at Arthurs cock, already flaccid.

“About that.. female?”

He was still half asleep in the afterglow, relaxing in the bliss of post-orgasm. He could tell Arthur was feeling the symptoms too, which his flushed cheeks and droopy eyelids, hands wandering subconsciously across his chest. How to persuade him to lie down and sleep with him..

“Lab experiments. Just because we were male as humans didn’t mean they mixed up with male animals, the bastards.”

“Right,” he sighed, really not wanting to pay attention. He patted the space beside him playfully, snorting when Arthur gave him a shallow, confused look, “Lie down, cher”

Arthur froze. He should not lie down. He should not lie down. What was the punishment if he didn’t? His arms moved of his own accord, collapsing on the warm chest, cosy and welcoming, the scents settling in and mixing as one of sex and just Francis. He yawned, letting sleep overcome him and Francis’ arm hold him safe as close, pretending it was just sweet nature to have a kiss placed on his forehead and not because he was a pet.

“Sleep well, mon lapin..”

* * *

**Roderich Edelstein**

“Gilbert!” Roderich snapped – he was on his last straw, trying to stay composed but the flames of anger were coursing through him, “Put on the suit to let Mr. Fedreich edit your measurements.”

Words were left unspoken between the stubborn German and uptight Austrian. The latter was ordering to wear it, obey him, impress everyone and give him a good reputation and get over his insecurities. The former was against the idea, not wanting any part of the London Proms. Every year there were whispers over his eyes, people shying away from him. He felt on display, and this year he was insistent that he didn’t want to go. He’d gone for two years running and despised every moment.

The instant the door closed on the tailor, the claws came out, “Do you have to act like such a child?” Roderich hissed, “Do you remember who I am? What I’ve done for you? Who dragged your damn family out of trouble and has given you a safe and stable life where you’re admired and feared, top of the hierarchy with everyone bowing down to you. Remind me, who put you in that position?”

“I did. It was my hard work that got me where I am.”

“You ungrateful brat. I was the one who bribed parliament for you, I was the one who stepped in to make excuses and defend your reputation when you were too busy partying like a pig. Who was the one who kept away the paparazzi so they didn’t realize just how disgusting you can be? I gave you your name. I put you in your place, don’t you forget it. Still acting like this and grow up, You’re coming with me to the Proms. It’s the top event of England, if we dare miss it the rumours will flare up-“

“Let them! I don’t care. I’m fed up of this. I want to be at peace and at work, hanging with friends and not being tied down by you.”

Roderichs hands tightened around a piece of paper, crumpling it and fuming, “Then go! Leave. That’s right, you can’t. You’ll be disowned because of your mistake that I had to cover up! Do you know how hard it is to hide a mother and child, desperate for some money?”

Gilbert stepped forward, catching Roderich’s lips in a rough, harsh embrace of passionate hatred, pushing him up again the table, “Shut up,” he snarled against the lips he was so chaotically bruising. The two crashed together around the room before the Austrian pulled away, “Don’t you forget it,” he snapped back, brushing his hair down, “Go and contact your brother. He can come, I’ll get the extra ticket. Ludwig will keep you in check.”

Gilbert snorted at the compromise. How stupid it was – a battle of liplock and all of a sudden someone who made him feel safe could come. He should consider leaving – there was nothing pretty about the pompous prude. Fuck him. He loved him. They both knew that he’d fallen hard for his arranged marriage partner. He slammed his hand down hard on the table in defeat, watching the wood crack into a broken slit.

“Hey Luddy?” he ringed the phone, “How about you come round for dinner? I’ve got a real interesting case you’ll like.”

The three sat around a table, tensions dissipating as they settled into a communal routine.  
“How is your new job, Ludwig?”  
  
“It is very good, danke, Roderich.”  
  
“Bitte - excellent to hear. I’m sure you’ll excel in your rankings soon enough, just like your brother has done.  
How is my father in law? I’ve heard he is working himself to death.”  
  
“Nein, he is home most of the time, although he sets out at weird times and doesn’t come back for hours.”  
  
“And you’ve apparently been helping Gil?”  
  
“Ja, my brother is very kind in letting me join in on the MI5 project. It has been good, a few ups and downs but I think it will end up being a success. He is a very good leader over us and the information Francis has been collecting is overwhelmingly helpful. Your work as well, Herr Edelstein”

“You can call me Roderich, I insist.”

Gilbert was lazily stirring his coffee with a spoon, only partially listening in. He was content like this - holding everything together and in the shadows while his fiancee manipulated the light to bend around him. His brother would grow up to be a fine young man.

“Bruder, have you been keeping Berlitz away from Gisil?”

“Ja, I don’t understand how he hates dogs so much! They’re so sweet and fluffy, loyal friends that are smart. I’ve had to explain to him that they’re well trained and are not causing any problems unless he keeps on giving them the eye every minute”

“Well, he will just have to put up with it,” Roderich inputted primly

Gilbert laughed, “Can we get a dog, Roddy?”

“Not until you’re responsible enough”

“I’m older than you”

“I said responsible, not elderly”

“If it’s not problem, Herr Edelstein, but didn’t you get lost in a store once and have to cry your way out to my brother?”

Gilbert collapsed in laughter at the paling and furious blush on Roderich’s face and the same on Ludwigs as he realized what he had just said and the consequences. He watched as the fuming Austrian stood up slowly, “You have three seconds to run.”

Ludwig played his part nicely, all things considered, as Gilbert leant back in his chair his younger brother sprinted out of the door with an angry Roderich chasing behind him.

Awesome.

* * *

**Francis Bonnefoy**

The pleasant weight was no longer on his chest as he woke up with a groan to his alarm clock, slapping it harshly to get it to shut up. He blinked. Arthur was gone. He heard nothing. He threw his duvet away and got up, “Arzhur?” he called into the house, accent thick with sleep. He panicked when he got no response and started throwing apart the house, searching. It was with great relief that he found the boy blinking up at him from the middle of his laundry basket, curled up on linens and looking squished. He must’ve been freezing with only the fluff-covered shirt and no blanket to cover him.

“Mhm?” Arthur asked blearily, looking up at the cross man who’d taken him captive. He’d moved to the basket in the middle of the night, not finding it safe to share a bed with others, especially after sex.

“Don’t you dare hideaway like that – you can’t leave this place. Anything you need I’ll get for you, but it’s too dangerous for you outside. I want to know where you are at all points and if I tell you to stay somewhere, you must. Let me make this clear: Your Bison and Dragonfly no longer have you to protect them. I’m the only one making sure they don’t get caught here.”

Arthur glared at him lethally the whole time he spoke. So much for the sweet talk yesterday – another condescending control freak. He raised a hand, “I get it,” he grumbled, “It’s normal. Stop worrying. And,” he tainted his voice with venom, “I’ll kill anyone who dares to touch them. Are we understood?”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you, mon lapin?”

“I don’t care about your job”

“It’s keeping you alive”

“Then let me earn my keep”

“You’ve already done a good enough job at that”

His jaw dropped open for a moment, and then he recomposed himself, slipping into work mode.

“Fuck me, Francis. Do what you want to me – anything you wish. Pleasure me.”

“As tempting as it is, no. I meant as company. And if you wish, help with some files,” he grimaced at the idea of work.  
  


...“Arthur,” Francis cooed into his ear. He snapped awake. He’d been dozing off against his shoulder, losing focus of the laptop screen they were sharing, “Mm.. what, frog?”

“No longer a beetle, how generous”

“Still that too.”

“Since you love me so much, maybe you can help.”

Arthur hated the looked of taunting pain on his face, so different from the merciless Francis he usually faced, the one tracking him down with a grin as they played catch up on one another, fighting with bullets and words. Being at his mercy now was.. frightening, _ that _was certain.

“Anya, 18, found dead on the Southern docks today. She had a flower carved into her heart, signature work of bear. And since you were the other leader, could you help us?”

Arthur spat out his tea with a laugh, “Hang on, hang on.. you think I’m in charge?”

“With Bear.”

“Fuck me – I didn’t realize the beetles were that slow. No, we’re not in charge. We don’t make any choices; we’re just the best members. Bring in the most and stuff – veterans.”

“Arthur..”

“Don’t. I don’t know their names or anything about them,” he sighed, “I can only tell you their looks and that’s pretty generic. They have an accent – both of them.”

Francis nodded, his disappointment evident.

“It’s not our work,” he hummed, looking at the images and zooming in with his fingers, “The flowers are slightly different. Bears is based off of a sunflower.” Hence his name, Arthur added silently, “This is more like a garden flower.”

He looked up, “..Someone else may have done it from our group while working with Bear, I’ll give you that. I think this was a last minute plan we were pulled in on – we do get left with the dirty work, plus you found fur on the scene. It was at the Southern docks, so the officials are moving closer towards it. That means tightened security on the South-West and South-East ends and looser on the North-West and North-East. Those are your target spots for the real crime. This is a decoy.”

Francis frowned, studying Arthurs features. He hadn’t been wrong about the orders to tighten security in those places (and the forced loosened ones in the places he mentioned..). Now that he thought about it, it made sense. He’d have to put it forward, but if only he had evidence other than criminal who was supposed to be deads word for it. Luck had forsaken him.

“You found fur, which is why you found the flower. You’re sending it to forensics. Let me know what type it is and I’ll give you a list of companies and suspects.”

Francis almost melted when those long brown eyelashes were fluttered and him, “Now please take me out, Francis?”

“Fine,” he mumbled, standing up, “But, you will get sick if you continue like that. You can have some of my clothes for now. Why you’re insisting on wearing that shirt..”

“Fluffy, big, warm”

“It barely covers your crotch”

“You don’t care”

No, he didn’t, but that was beside the point! He sighed as he watched Arthur shrug and sashay off. At least he had had a bath (and apparently successfully got everything out). He went upstairs to comb Arthurs hair and make him look different – putting a cute burgundy beret on the side of his hand, squishing his ears in (and telling Arthur off for loudly complaining). He watched him don clothes and then forced him into a beige coat and deep purple scarf. He looked proudly at his work of ar- fashion.

“Where did you want to go?” he asked lightly as he locked the door behind them

“Library..”

“Do you have a card?”

“What the hell makes you think I’d have it on me?”

“Chance,” he shrugged, “You can use mine.”

“Thank you..”

He was content in the silence as they continued at a leisurely pace. He offered his arm to Arthur, who accepted in and walked beside him, arms intertwined. It made Francis tingle. He was beautiful up close, able to concentrate on him. Underweight and underdeveloped, but cute. He still had childish chubby cheek, adorned with freckles that made him look boyish and a permanent pink tint to his cheeks. It suited him when they were not trying to murder one another.

He nuzzled into his neck, leaving a peck there over numerous hickeys which were supposed to be hidden by the scarf. He was proud in a way, claiming that tantalizing stretch of skin as his own. It was strange for him to be so possessive; he was usually one to take the world as it came. If the situation had been different, he wouldn’t have minded treating Arthur as a lover. But as life deemed it, even keeping Arthur in his house was a risk to his own life. He would lose everything if this was revealed.

“Do you know what you want to get?”

“Hm? Not yet. I’ll be looking around and trying to find a few things, as trips out won’t be frequent – don’t apologize, I understand. You could be treating me worse.”

Francis shut his mouth and nodded obediently, burying his nose into his own scarf. Arthur looked so happy scanning through books and the like. He seemed at home, interested. He wondered if he’d been to school or had an education – what did those creatures receive? He’d never considered it before.

A few hours passed swiftly, fascinated by Arthur as he was enraptured by books, becoming part of the stories himself as he read the first chapter to decide whether he wanted it or not. He looked up to two green eyes as a heavy stack of five books were dropped onto his lap.

“This is it”

“We’ll be back in a week or so”

“You’re going to ignore me completely?” he teased, pleased to see the crimson toning on Arthurs cheeks appear

“No, Si-“

Francis stared at him as Arthur cut himself off.

“Sor-“

“Don’t apologize, Arthur,” he was still in a trace-like state. Was Arthur about to call him Sir? He cupped those precious cheeks, “I was unfair to you. I don’t want to be your superior, master. I want to be your equal and friend – like we were out on the streets”

“I was better than you on the streets”

“Oh, so what was that scar I saw on your back?” he purred, “I know it’s mine”

“Maybe.”

Francis was never happier to see Arthur’s grin, “Let’s get these checked out then, cher”

“I prefer lapin”

“You don’t know any French”

“Sounds better”

Francis laughed – of course Arthur would judge it on something so trivial. He kissed his cheek and headed over to the counter, swiping his card and putting the books in a bad he had brought. He turned back to Arthur and took his fingers. They were freezing – tortuously so.

He would have to buy gloves tomorrow.

* * *

**Kololo/ Yves**

He was laughing as he walked around the docks with the girl - she wasn’t a bad catch with brunette hair and hazel eyes. He was chatting along with her after lulling her into security - they’d been on a secret date that night. The docks were open to walk on apart from in some more industrial zones.

Kololo lent forward and blew into her ear huskily, “Why don’t we have some fun? Do a challenge?”

“I’m down,” she giggled, “Show me your strength, bad boy”

He grinned and took her hand, going at a decent jog so she wouldn’t hurt herself until they reached a padlocked gate, chained on the inside and with mesh holdings. He could see iron briars on the top to dispel intruders. He rolled his shirt sleeves up and then slipped his fingers between the rails, climbing up with several crashes of metal on metal before jumping down onto the stone below.

He made sure it was too dark for her to see as he used a sharp, large lion claw to rip apart the lock. It hurt like hell to transform such a small part, but he needed the control nowadays. Fuck it, as long as he was being positive!

“Told ya,” he grinned, taking her hand again. She definitely was a pretty one, he considered, leading her down the docks and hiding behind crates as soon as they saw lights, the big game to both of them. Too bad he couldn’t have her.

He led her further down where the rotating lights didn’t quite reach, crouching down behind a crate as if he wasn’t aware. He made no noise as he heard her final choke for air.

  
“Done?” he asked, not wanting to look back yet

“Done,” Silver Bullet confirmed with a nod.

He finally turned around, inspecting the body with morbid curiosity as Silver Bullet pulled out a knife, “Why does Sunflower have to mark everything?” he asked with annoyance. Kololo only laughed in agreement ashe watched the blood ooze around the knife, marking it as its own.

It was horrifically pleasing, proof he’d been doing this far too long. His moral compass was going haywire - he shouldn’t kill a human. He shouldn’t kill unless necessary to survival? He needed to do this. It only upset him that the girl was a nobody, much like he was, trapped within a pool of trade and prostitution. He had to wonder if she’d ever known Albion too.

He waited until Silver Bullet was done then lifted her onto his shoulder, “Yuck,” he commented breezily as something ruby red dripping onto his nose, trickling down his fine skin. Kololo walked further down into the docks and dumped her body in the harbour, arm hanging over an o'ring rope to promise she wouldn’t drift away. He gave a thumbs up to his temporary partner for the night, getting up and heading after him as they left the scene.

“Lucky these guards are so ignorant”

“They will not be so much if you do not keep your voice down”

“We’ll be fine, I fell it in my bones”

“You’ve either been listening to too much pop music or reading fantasy”

“Let it go, let it go-”

“I will beat you with my rank”

“Scary,” he stuck his tongue out at Silver Bullet, enjoying the friendly banter (in his eyes). He put his hands behind his head, unable to feel the cold temperature and staring at the night sky. He had to admit, the pollution in London ruined it - the pure colours were destroyed by the vibrant reds and oranges on the horizon.

He let his tail hang freely as he got back into the Orphanage through the backdoor, “We’re back!” he announced his presence immediately, throwing his shoes off to the side and going into the kitchen to grab some snacks. He was starving - the girl has wanted fish and chips, disgusting, soggy and salty.

“Hi Vigilant!” he exclaimed through a mouth full of crisps, “What’s with the grumpy face?”

“Been fighting against hackers all morning.. think it was the Beetles. Gusts been a good job keeping them at bay with me. I need to see Oxenstierna on the matter.”

“Holy shit, you’re kidding. Albion and now this? I think they’ve got an inside source”

“We’re all monsters here, Kololo. It doesn’t make sense for any of us to betray another - we all know the Beetles will imprison us anyway”

“But what if someone doesn’t know?”

“If you know, everyone knows”

“Aren’t you, like.. scared?”

“No. The statistics suggest they will find me eventually”

“You’re super cool and strong. Wish I could be that calm.”

He laughed and headed towards the door, “Cya Vig!” he called, leaving the premises. All he needed was a long bath and a relaxing sleep - his tail was dirty and head pounding from exhaustion. He moaned in satisfaction as he finally flopped onto a soft pillow, departing to sleep almost immediately.


End file.
